we've probably all lived with messy people. some of us, i'm not in a place to judge here, have probably been messy people to live with.

there's this whole other thing though, that i seem to find in long term relationships. it's a subtype of tidy, i guess, or something like it. it's like sharing a warren with a small, efficient burrowing mammal that's particularly cache-oriented.

you wonder for months where, say, the handheld radios have gone and then one day you open a drawer and there they are, neatly tetrised in next to 15 batteries and several cameras.

sometimes you just give up and buy a new one of whatever thing you're looking for because unlike the resident cache-oriented mammal, your mental model of the cache layout is woefully incomplete and months out of date.
you know there's a fresh thing of solder or a box of deck screws. you just don't know which carefully labeled toolbox inside which carefully labeled rubbermaid tub on which carefully labeled shelf it's at the bottom of, and if you tried to find out without asking, you'd disassemble half the household.
sometimes i do dishes and wind up staring at the cabinet where the tupperware goes for like a literal 10 or 15 minutes trying to work out the careful and deterministic set of rules by which i would know where in hell a particular small round lid Correctly lives.